


The spring uprise Thy grief to slake

by Demerite



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:44:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16512143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite
Summary: “Cody?” Rex asks, and Cody can read the silent question in the intent gaze, asking if he’s alright. He’s not, but he has to be, so he just nods. He doesn’t trust his voice not to crack and betray him. Rex sees through him in an instant; he fixes Cody with a dubious, searching look; one Cody is more accustomed to seeing him level at General Skywalker.“Don’t give me that look.” Cody says.





	The spring uprise Thy grief to slake

**Author's Note:**

> Both Cody/Rex and Cody/Obi-Wan are established in the fic, but Cody/Rex/Obi-Wan hasn't happened yet.

When its all over, Cody goes to take a shower. 

He stares at his reflection for a long, hard moment. His own dark eyes look back at him from the glass, but the clean under-armour, the stark white of the dressing sealed to his cheek, the calm, even expression, that can’t be him. He feels thousands of years old, not nearly twelve; feels the years like he feels every single one of the last five days, every second of fighting for any advantage, any bit of breathing room, any chance of survival. 

He’d made it out in the end. He, and a handful of other clones, and his general, all of them broken and battered and exhausted. Cody had carried General Kenobi bodily out of the worst of it, trying not to think about how limp the Jedi had felt in his arms, spent every second not concentrated on survival checking and re-checking that he was still breathing. 

But they’d made it to their transports, and then their transports had made it to the waiting cruiser, and then 501st had been there, with supplies and medics and haunted faces when they saw how few had returned, did the maths, and realised how many hadn’t. 

Cody bends down, unfastens his boots, takes them off and sets them side by side on the floor. He strips methodically, his muscles a solid wall of pain that he pushes down. Obi-Wan had ordered him off the bridge, told him to shower and eat and sleep before he returned. It stings a little, but hadn’t Cody himself done the same to others hundreds of times before? 

Body aching and heart heavy, Cody steps under the spray of hot water, letting it rush over him, rinsing away dirt, sweat, and blood. At least the water’s hot, a welcome change from the last five days, and he has the showers to himself. Most of the clones who aren’t in the infirmary - or the ground, his traitorous mind points out - are already back in their barracks, resting and regrouping. He remembers the days before he made commander, when he was just another soldier, sitting on bunks and the on floor with his brothers, trying to find the rhythm of a conversation when some of the voices were abruptly missing. 

The door to the communal showers hisses open, but Cody ignores it, scrubbing a hand viciously though his hair, dislodging dried blood and caked-in mud in equal measures, staring fixedly at the blank wall in front of him, his mind lightyears away on a rain-drenched planet, watching his brothers die around him.  
The hand that grasps his bare shoulder makes him jump, and he turns to see Rex standing only centimetres away from him, concern or exhaustion written in the crease between his brows. 

“Cody?” Rex asks softly, and Cody can read the silent question in the intent gaze, asking if he’s alright. He’s not, but he has to be, so he just nods. He doesn’t trust his voice not to crack and betray him. Rex sees through him in an instant; he fixes Cody with a dubious, searching look; one Cody is more accustomed to seeing him level at General Skywalker. 

“Don’t give me that look.” Cody says, with more authority than he feels he has any right to possess. 

Rex doesn’t respond, just hums lightly and steps under the water with Cody, pressing close enough that they’re touching. He reaches up to scrub his fingers gently through Cody’s hair, sending more red-brown mud caucusing down the drain. 

Cody wants to hold himself tense against Rex’s touch, wants to pull away and chew him out in a half-whisper about how public the location they’re in is, but his need to remind himself the Rex is here with him, still alive, still breathing, is greater than his fear of inadvertent discovery. 

So when Rex backs him gently against the wall of the shower, he doesn’t object, just tilts his head so he can kiss the look of concern off his face before it has time to properly settle there. Rex kisses back, with a softness that should be startling, and Cody makes a low, frustrated noise in the back of his throat. He wants anything but gentle right now; needs something to shut his mind up for a little while, lest he go back to thinking about everything - everyone - he’s lost. 

“I won’t break.” He mumbles into Rex’s mouth, and Rex laughs, low and warm. 

Cody digs his fingers into Rex’s back, trying to drag the two of them closer together under the hot water, biting at his lower lip and licking his way into the other clone’s mouth. He lets out a harsh, ragged gasp when Rex slides a thigh between his legs, his hips twitching involuntarily to chase the friction, his head dropping to rest against Rex’s shoulder. 

It’s too much and not enough; wonderful and maddening at the same time. 

“Rex…” Cody mumbles, and it’s the beginning of a thought he doesn’t know how to put into words, because he doesn’t quite know how to tell the other clone that he missed him and that he needs him, needs more.  
Rex understands though, because Rex always understands. He shifts back a little, not quite a step, and Cody makes a low, plaintive noise at the loss of contact, moving forward to follow him, but Rex’s hand pressed to his chest keeps in firmly in place. 

“Impatient.” He says, but there’s no sting to the word, jut amusement and a meaningful heat, full of promise. 

Cody is about to snap something back at him, doubtless something bitter and sarcastic, but Rex silences his words before they start to form, pressing their mouths together again, pulling Cody close to him once more. 

Cody moans openly into the kiss when his cock slides against Rex’s, the contact sudden and hot, and Rex takes it in his stride, shifting a little so he can get one hand around the both of them, and Cody swears into his mouth, one hand coming up to grab at his head, his neck, his shoulder, anything he can get a grip on to keep himself steady and grounded. 

Rex’s laugh turns into a low groan halfway through as they thrust together in something close to an actual rhythm, clinging to each other with desperation and the need to keep their balance under the water. 

Cody buries his face against Rex’s shoulder as he comes, panting and cursing, and Rex follows him over the edge, his low growl cut off when Cody kisses him again, loose and messy and sated. They lean against one another, breathing loud and harsh, and Cody resolutely ignores how his legs are shaking. 

“Whoa!” Rex cries when Cody nearly topples over, despite still leaning against him. He catches Cody with an arm around his shoulders, steadying him. “When was the last time you slept?”

Cody does his best to shrug, “What day is it?’ he mumbles. 

Rex makes a noise, a mix of concern and frustration that is so achingly familiar. Cody doesn’t so much hear it as feel it, the vibrations transferring from Rex’s chest to his.

“That’s it.” Rex finally says, “I’m getting you to a bunk.” 

“Don’t think I’m up for that.” Cody slurs, and Rex snorts a laugh, reaching past him to turn the water off.

“Don’t push your luck.” He teases, and the smile he gets in return does a lot to reassure him that Cody will, eventually, be okay. Properly okay, not the okay be pretends to be when there’s a war to fight and he doesn’t have a choice. 

They dress half leaning on one another; neither of them willing to let the other out of touching range. Cody’s fingers are clumsy as he drags his boots back on. There’s still red mud on the soles, despite that fact that they were cleaned the moment he stepped onto the cruiser, disinfected with the rest of his armour as if that will make anything any better. 

Rex reaches out without asking or being asked and slings an arm around Cody’s shoulders, supporting him subtly, and Cody leans gratefully on him as they walk through the corridors, unconcerned about being seen now. The lights are low, it’s the night-cycle, no-one will be up if they don’t have to be. 

He doesn’t know the layout of this cruiser, so the door that Rex keys open could lead to anywhere, but the small cabin it reveals, and it’s lone occupant, aren’t a surprise to Cody. 

“Cody, Rex.” General Kenobi is seated, legs crossed, in the middle of the only bunk. There’s a bruise blooming over his left cheekbone, and under the low collar of his sleep shirt, Cody can see the white of bandages, remembers the blood that had soaked through his tunic. He swallows. 

“Sir.” Rex says, but his posture is still loose and comfortable, “Brought you your commander.” 

Obi-Wan smiles gently, “You have indeed.” He shifts, a little less graceful than usual, and moves over, and that’s all the invitation Cody really needs, he stumbles across the room to sit beside him on the bunk, and Obi-Wan surges into his space, wrapping his arms around Cody and holding him close. 

Cody’s arms come up almost of their own accord, wrapping around Obi-Wan, careful not to jostle his injuries. They stay there, for a few moments, pressed together, breathing levelling out in sync. 

“I’m alright.” Obi-Wan’s voice is soft, and Cody huffs a quiet laugh, not letting go just yet. 

Obi-Wan gets a hand under his chin and tips Cody’s face up so they’re eye-to-eye. “I’m alright.” he repeats, leaning down to press a kiss to Cody’s lips. It’s chaste, almost shy, because Obi-Wan isn’t sure about this whole thing yet, doesn’t know where he fits in the tangle that is he and Cody and Rex. 

“Okay.” Cody replies, starting to believe it. 

“Uh, I’ll just…” Rex starts, gesturing awkwardly towards the door. 

Obi-Wan looks to Rex, and then to Cody, his eyes conveying a series of emotions in seconds, and Cody gets his meaning almost immediately, because, even exhausted, Obi-Wan is still his general, and Cody understands him on or of the battlefield. He nods.

“Stay?” He asks Rex, reaching out to him. 

Rex looks from Cody, to Obi-Wan, and back again. “You sure?” He asks, and the question is directed to both of them.

“Please.” Cody says, and Obi-Wan nods. 

Rex doesn’t argue with that, just kicks his own boots off somewhere under the bunk, ignoring the way they bump into the bulkhead, and drags his shirt over his head. Obi-Wan shifts around until he’s lying on his good side, back pressed against the wall. He opens his arms to Cody, who slides under the blankets next to him, bumping their foreheads together gently, shifting across as much as he can. 

Then Rex is there behind him, one arm slung around his waist, his heartbeat a reassuring rhythm against Cody’s back, and he can feel Obi-Wan’s breath on his cheek, and he feels like he’s finally home. Rex’s skin is warm against Cody’s back, and Obi-Wan’s is warm against his front, and it finally dispels the chips of ice he feels like he’s been carrying in his heart. 

Dimly as he falls asleep, he hears Rex mumble something about not going anywhere, and Obi-Wan’s voice answering him.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Alexander Gordon Steven’s “Dejection” because apparently, I have a thing about obscure Australian poets. 
> 
> Had I the heart,  
> O! I should sing,  
> A song of joy  
> And hope and spring :  
> Of such subtle thought  
> And melody,  
> And so rarely wrought  
> O! it would be,  
> It would assuage  
> The pain that lies  
> Upon thy heart  
> And in thine eyes ;  
> But I am tired,  
> I cannot make  
> The spring uprise  
> Thy greif to slake.


End file.
